


Cold and Dark

by DAsObiQuiet



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012), rise of the guardians
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Darkish!Jack, Gen, Jack Frost and Pitch Black as Allies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DAsObiQuiet/pseuds/DAsObiQuiet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pitch is the master of deception and manipulation. He had all the tools he needed to turn Jack to his side if he had just been a little more observant and cautious. And what then? Because Jack has never been one to do anything half-way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

  
_  
_PROLOGUE

_The grey-eyed lady had so many wonderful stories to tell, and she never grew tired of disclosing them. On her good days, she would share her happiness, for happiness shared is twice the happiness. On her not-so-good days, she would share her misery, for misery shared is half the misery._

_Today was a not-so-good day, but she glanced at the children gathered around her with a friendly smile none the less. She missed the times when she only had to worry about a few Williams, not the teaming hoard that practically ran the ever-growing town of_ _Santoff Clausen_ _, but she also loved all of the younger generation of children dearly. That was, after all, part of her nature as a guardian._

_The children had come ready to learn, for good or bad, happy or sad, all of her stories held a moral. She told her stories to pass along the good and the bad, so the first could be learned and the second could be avoided._

_"What story will you tell us today?" the children asked, and her smile turned just the faintest touch sad._

_"Today, I will share the story of the Frost Prince."_


	2. Betrayal

**_Cold and dark. Those are the first things I remember. It was cold, and it was dark, and I was scared…because the cold and the dark do that. They inspire fear. After that, after the Moon chased the fear away, I stopped being afraid of the cold. Actually I found comfort in the cold, reveled in it even. I_ was _the cold…and the cold was me and I loved it. But 'cold' comes in different forms. It took me a good century to realize that I only liked cold the outside. Later I would learn words like 'physical' and 'mental' and 'emotional'. I still don't think I quite grasp the ideas fully, but I have the gist._**

**_You see, as a spirit of winter, I am the embodiment of physical cold. I thrive walking barefoot on the ice and snow or whirling through blizzards at immense speeds. But I'm also a sentient being and the same problems that bother normal humans also tend to bother me, except on a larger scale because most humans don't live for 300 years. It almost makes me wonder what else is wrong with me that I don't know about that has been building for all those centuries. Almost._ **

**_Being alone for three centuries…well, the first few days are hard because all you can think about is 'Why?' Then you start doing anything you can to make people acknowledge you. That's when I first started pranking, not a week after the Man in the Moon told me my name. I just wanted someone to_ see _me, so I froze a layer of ice on top of a relatively smooth patch of the muddy street. The person, a man who had been intently leading a few children, had slipped and fallen, spilling his goods everywhere. They laughed so hard, even the man after a moment, and it felt_ so good _that I started laughing too. That was when I really realized that I love laughter._**

**_They still didn't see me._ **

**_After the first few weeks of invisibility, you begin thinking that maybe you aren't real after all. Perhaps you're just a ghost…and then you get upset because you can't even_ remember _what exactly a ghost is. Like everything else you know, it just kind of comes to you, leaving you to wonder_ how. _Then you start wondering if you're even as real as a ghost, and if not what are you?_**

**_Then it really starts to grate on you and you begin losing your sense of…well, everything. Your reasons for going on, your sense of self, your motivation for anything…. I wonder what would have happened if I'd sunken any lower in my depression. Would the Man in the Moon have done anything? I hope he would have. Or maybe he did. Maybe that was why every now and then, other spirits started showing up for a few minutes of chatter before they'd take off again._ **

**_After that, it got tolerable. I didn't have acknowledgement, but I had enough interaction to keep me sane, and I had laughter. The pure feeling of having to release one's happiness always chases away the inner cold that I hate. Even back then I realized that even if they couldn't see me, I could make them laugh._ **

**_I would have traded that all away for the belief though; to just know that I was real, even if only to just one child._ **

**_I didn't realize how utterly stupid and foolish that was until the chance came, and despite my own misgivings, I took it…_ **

**_And I have regretted it ever since._ **

xXx

_Easter Sunday, 2012_

It was official. Jack hated his life. Just when he'd been able to begin thinking that it could all get better too. He would not make that mistake again soon.

The day had started out decently. He'd been helping the Guardians—the big four (and Sophie Bennett)—prepare for Easter. He remembered thinking how strange it was that despite himself, he'd come to enjoy the Guardians' company…even Bunnymund's to an extent. After all, racing them, helping them, bantering and even just _talking_ with them that much was more interaction than he'd had in centuries, and even though he didn't want to admit it, he'd eaten it up. It had been something he'd desperately wanted for so long, no matter what he'd fooled himself into thinking.

After helping the Guardians gather teeth for the Tooth Fairy, he'd started to view them a little differently. In place of the snobbish sticks-in-the-mud whose lives revolved around schedules that he'd conjured in his head centuries before (after talking to some of the other immortals, many of whom didn't have the highest praise for the Guardians), he'd come to see them as regular spirits, just like him. He'd seen each one of them smile and let loose and actually have fun, and he'd even gotten to see some of their tricks of the trade. Jack would have to admit that watching the Easter Eggs basically decorate themselves had been rather entertaining but seeing Bunny fawn over them had been priceless.

Secretly, he'd loved it because in his mind, he wasn't even supposed to be there. But what had started out as one sleigh ride had turned into protecting fairies, then finding teeth, then hunting down nightmares and then helping prepare for a major human holiday. If only he'd realized that in just days the other spirits had done what should have been impossible: they'd rekindled that spark of hope that maybe he _could_ belong.

Which only made it hurt worse when that hope shattered.

It had begun with Jack volunteering to take 3-year-old Sophie home. He'd felt a little responsible for her, seeing as he knew her and she was from his home town, and so he'd wanted to be the one to drop her off. The others had been leery, but had given into his demands so long as he went and hurried directly back to help protect the eggs on their way to the Earth's surface, and that had been what he'd intended to do. How could he have known that Pitch had set his home base up just outside the city? That it would be so easy to use what he knew Jack wanted, his memories, to lure the winter spirit to the Boogeyman's lair while his nightmares and fearlings attacked the Easter Bunny's warren?

And then, the moment Bunnymund had felt what Jack had experienced for centuries—the very second the children stopped believing—he'd turned his back on the winter spirit. They all had. Not that the Easter spirit in particular had ever really wanted Jack there anyway, but it still hurt because it just confirmed what he feared: that he didn't belong after all.

And then there had been Tooth and North. _"What have you done?"_ Tooth had asked, and Jack couldn't help but feel that that had not been deserved. He hadn't _done_ anything. Of course that had been the problem, but it still felt as if she'd accused him of actively doing something to hinder them. After he'd done so much to help them…

Then there was North's accusation. _"You were with Pitch?!"_ He'd accused Jack like he and the Boogieman were old friends or something. Never mind that Jack had been in danger himself, or that he'd gone chasing after the whole reason he'd accompanied the Guardians to begin with. And then the Russian's silence after Bunnymund had accused Jack of being untrustworthy; of being a traitor…

The worst thing about what the Easter spirit had said was the truth to his words. Jack couldn't help his anger towards the other two because they hadn't even come close to the mark—because their expectations, no matter what they'd said, had been so low to begin with (why else would they jump to those conclusions without even allowing him to defend himself?). Bunnymund, though…Bunny's words had hurt because no matter what Jack felt or thought, no matter how much he tried to justify himself, he could not deny that the Easter Spirit had been right. There wasn't any hope left anymore and it was all because Jack hadn't been where he'd said he would be.

Now, as Jack flew through the atmosphere heading down towards the Antarctic, where no one could ever find him if he didn't want them to, he began to realize that maybe—just maybe—he was better off as he had been for the last 300 years; invisible and alone. What good was acknowledgement if it only hurt him so badly in the end? Had he been so starved for attention that he'd simply attached himself to the first people who showed any mild interest in him? He hadn't realized how much their opinion mattered to him until now…and the worst part was the he _knew_ better! He'd known from the beginning (or at least suspected) that they really only wanted to get to know him because the Man in the Moon wanted him to become a Guardian, not because they wanted a friend. They already had each other as friends. Why would they want another one? Even if they did, why should they consider someone who didn't share in or want anything to do with their deadline-centered lives?

And why had he been so _stupid_ as to allow himself to believe differently?

No tears fell from his eyes, although he felt as if he wanted to cry and scream at the Man in the Moon and Pitch and the Guardians and the world in general. Vaguely he wondered if he even had the ability to cry, as he never really had before, but quickly dismissed the question.

It didn't matter now.

The weather, as always, reacted to his emotions and swirled around him in a blizzard meant to keep everything else away. He found a sort of bitter poetic justice that probably for the first time in his remembered existence he didn't _want_ to see anyone ever again.

Ahead of him, the forever frozen ground and ice of the South Pole, his destination, appeared and pushed himself forward harder, willing the winds to take him faster. In only seconds, he landed hard and looked back at the ocean littered unevenly with stray chunks of ice. Then he closed his eyes and for several minutes just reveled in the storm. He lost himself in the ice and snow that was his; that he belonged to—that he would always belong to.

After a minute, he moved to hold his staff with both hands, wanting the familiarity of the wood in his fingers, when he realized that both appendages were already occupied. Confused for a moment, he looked down and realized that he still held the container of his baby teeth in his hand.

Jack stared at the beautiful object for several moments, almost wondering why it was even there, but then his expression hardened. Everything had gone so wrong because of this stupid, little, golden container. Everything! Why had it meant so much to him?!

Angrily, he looked up and around at the frozen tundra, then shot towards the edge of the cliff in front of him. Whipping his arm back, he took one last, giant step and pushed his hand forward, fully intending to throw the thing into the ocean…only to lose momentum half-way through. Even after everything that had happened he still couldn't let the dumb thing go. The realization made him angry enough to want to throw it all over again and he went to try, but just as before, he couldn't follow through.

Embarrassment and shame built up inside of him, only fueling his depression and anger. What should he do? Should he throw the stupid teeth away? Would they only bring him more pain and despair? And what would he do after that? What could he do? Just go back to Burgess and his pond? Just continue as if nothing had ever happened? As if people hadn't tried to bring him into their lives? As if he hadn't, even for a few days, been completely visible and wanted?

Of course it would be then, at his lowest point that the last person he ever wanted to see somehow managed to find him.

"I thought this might happen." Pitch! Jack tensed, but didn't turn around. There had been no immediate threat in the other's tone. Shock still caused him to forget about the little golden container, and he absently shoved it into the pocket of his hoodie.

He only heard the basic idea of Pitch's next words. He couldn't find it in himself to shut the man out completely, not after the Guardian's recent rejection. The Nightmare King said something about how the Guardians never believed in him and how he'd never belonged, but how Pitch understood…which only succeeded in ticking the winter spirit off.

"You don't understand anything!" Jack found himself yelling, not realizing just how desperate he sounded as he whirled around and attacked. Pitch didn't get the hint—didn't just shut up. Instead he retorted, his own anger coming to bare even as he managed to dodge out of the way of Jack's blow.

"I don't understand what it's like to be cast out?!"

And for that, Jack hated him, because his words had been true before and they were true now. He pushed his offensive, only getting more frustrated as the Boogieman matched or dodged each one of his attacks. The frustration built so quickly, and he screamed, throwing all of his anger and energy into his next blast. Seeing he couldn't dodge, Pitch unleashed a wave of dark sand that met Jack's own power with a thunderous crash.

The resulting storm obscured even Jack's vision to just a few inches in front of him. He struggled to see past the blizzard of snow and sand, searching desperately for Pitch so he could prepare for the blow that would inevitably come…but surprisingly didn't. Instead he only got some words finishing the other's previously spoken thought.

"To not be believed in? To long for a family?"

Jack stopped in his tracks. Once again, he could sense no threat or menace in those words. He turned, far more slowly than he probably should have and saw Pitch's dark figure through the ice and storm. Vaguely he wondered why (and was annoyed at the fact that) the cold didn't seem to bother Pitch the way it did everyone else. He didn't realize he'd stopped advancing, or that he'd lowered his staff.

Pitch Black, the King of Nightmares, longed for a family? For company?

"All those years I spent in the shadows. I thought 'no one knows what this feels like,' but now I see that I was wrong." The winter spirit wanted to say something, wanted to deny everything, but he found that he couldn't. Anything defensive about his stance vanished completely, leaving him all too open. The Nightmare King continued. "We don't have to be alone, Jack. I believe in you. And the children will too!" He'd never heard those words before…hadn't realized just how desperately he wanted to hear them.

"In me?" Jack whispered, wanting to believe but not daring to.

Pitch nodded excitedly. "Yes! Look what we can do!"

Jack had been so focused on Pitch that he hadn't noticed that the temporary flurry around him had cleared somewhat. The now visible structure he turned his attention to definitely classified as one of the most amazing and terrifying things he'd ever seen. The somewhat obscured, dim light of the Antarctic day still danced and glittered, albeit rather morbidly, over the frozen spikes of sharp ice and sand that jutted out menacingly a good 50 feet into the air.

It both awed and scared Jack that at least half of the sculpture had come unwittingly from him.

As if sensing his thoughts, Pitch smiled slyly. "What goes together better than cold and dark?"

It felt as if the Boogieman had punched him. There was a truth to those words that Jack did _not_ like and it made him more than a little sick. The first thing he remembered, after all, had been the cold and dark and the fear. Light more often than not created at least some kind of heat, and dark...didn't. But that didn't mean cold was evil, right? No! But then that would mean that darkness couldn't be purely evil either…it was just how Pitch used it. All of this flashed through his head in a second and he narrowed his eyes warily as the dark spirit continued.

"We can make them believe! We'll create a world where everything— _everything—_ is—"

"Pitch Black?" Jack interjected dryly his words dripping with warning. Pitch paused and noticed the lack-luster expression on the winter spirit's face.

"And Jack Frost," the Boogieman amended quickly. Jack didn't move a muscle. Pitch opened his mouth to say something else, but he must have thought better of it because he closed it a few seconds later, watching the white-haired boy opposite of him thoughtfully.

Then he sighed and deflated. "Look, Jack, I'm tired. I'll admit I like power, but it hasn't been about that for a very long time. Lately, I'll take anything I can get, just so someone believes in me. I'm tired of not being able to interact with anyone; of being ignored and invisible; of being rejected."

Unwittingly, Jack's hard expression softened. It always came back to that, didn't it? To the fact that he'd never been believed in, not even by the other spirits…that he'd almost lost hope that anyone ever would accept and believe in him—just like Pitch, apparently. He immediately scowled again, praying Pitch hadn't caught the momentary change. He didn't want the Boogieman to know just how much he related.

"Is it so much to ask?" Pitch continued quietly. "To be believed in? To be _real_?"

Jack blinked and looked down seeking the familiarity of snow and ice under his feet. Could he really begrudge Pitch for wanting exactly what he had wanted for so long himself? Then again, did he still want it? Part of him still most definitely did, but part of him…

"If you're invisible, no one can hurt you," he muttered, not realizing he'd said anything aloud.

"That is a lie, Jack." He kind of hated how Pitch kept saying his name like that.

"How is it a lie?" he growled, looking up again. Then he gasped and took a step back, startled. Pitch had walked right up to him when he hadn't noticed, staring at him intently with those creepy, metallic eyes.

"Can you honestly say that having every living being on the planet ignore you didn't hurt?"

Jack frowned and looked down again, unwilling to answer.

"Why should we be rejected? Why should we be the outcasts; the hollow ghosts that no one remembers?" Pitch continued.

The winter spirit blinked for a moment. Then he narrowed his eyes again and turned them back up to look at the tangible shadow that called himself the Nightmare King. "Because you hurt children," Jack responded tensely.

It was Pitch's turn to glare dryly at Jack. "The emotion that sustains my existence is fear. I don't like it—I wish it could be any other way, actually, but I work with it because I _have_ to, Jack. What would suggest I do? Sit passively by while I fade from existence? What would you do?"

The winter spirit hated to admit that the other man had a point. For centuries Jack had done anything from icing up innocent looking sidewalks to slip people up to whipping up giant storms for attention. He didn't like to think it, but he knew that if he were in Pitch's place, he'd probably be no better.

"Let me put it this way, Jack; right now this little skirmish of ours could go either way. I may win, or the Guardians may. The problem is that either way, even if I win, I'll be alone. I'll be believed in, and no one will be there to stop me, yes, but no one will be there to help me either. I'll have nobody again, Jack…and I'd do anything to prevent that. I'd join forces with you on your terms if I have to."

"What?" Jack's gaze shot up, eyes wide. Pitch was asking for terms? He searched for any signs of deception, but saw nothing but resignation in the other's expression. Did he really mean it though? The winter spirit looked down at the white ground beneath his feet again, his mind whirling at light-speed as his eyes subconsciously sought out the comforting patterns of the frozen ground. Pitch was asking what _he_ wanted? Even the Guardians hadn't done that. They'd assumed that he would just fall into line; become one of them because he'd been chosen and that was that. They didn't understand—or care to try to understand—what it felt like to not be believed in. Even Tooth…the moment she'd faltered, everyone had jumped to defend her. No one had done that for him…

Still, even though the others had hurt him—badly—that didn't mean he didn't want them to succeed in protecting the children. He'd warned them that he wasn't Guardian material (and oh how right he'd been there), but that didn't mean the children didn't mean just as much to him. It may not be conventional, but he could do something…he could at least buy the Guardians time. He may also be able to get Pitch to leave them alone while they regrouped. They might just have a chance of winning this yet, he just wasn't sure he wanted to pay the price, as tempting as the other spirit made it.

"And you honestly want me to believe that if I said you can't attack the Guardians or touch even a blade of grass or snowflake in their territory, you'll follow it?"

Pitch seemed to have been expecting that. "I would agree in an instant. Unless they interfere, I will not seek them out."

"Or your fearlings, or your nightmares or anything else you have up your sleeve with the intent to harm them in any way!" Jack had thought he'd been able to calm down, but apparently not as much as he'd wanted.

The gray-skinned man frowned for a moment. "Why are you defending them, Jack? They rejected you!"

"I know!" Jack yelled back. Pitch raised an eyebrow and closed his mouth, and the white-haired boy deflated with a sigh. "I know. I always knew…I just…wanted to believe." He shook his head. "It's my own fault. I won't punish them for that, so that's my term and it won't change."

The Boogieman continued to study him for a moment and finally shrugged his shoulders. "Very well. Anything else?"

Jack blinked. He hadn't expected Pitch to agree with him so readily. It threw him off balance.

"Right…uh, second term: Release all of the tooth fairies."

"Done," Pitch almost sounded bored, and that really grated on Jack's nerves.

"And no more nightmares."

As expected, Pitch frowned and narrowed his eyes. Jack stared back defiantly, just daring the Nightmare King to answer him. After a few seconds, Pitch backed down, a sly smirk forming on his face.

"So you want me to go back to the old way of doing things?"

Jack tipped his head skeptically, never taking his eyes off of the man in front of him. "Old way?"

Pitch shrugged. "How do you think I got the reputation of hiding under beds? That is what I did for centuries after all. The problem with that, Jack, is that it doesn't work anymore! Not without physically harming the child, which—even if I wanted to—cannot work _if they don't believe in me to begin with!_ So 'the old way' is _utterly_ _pointless_!" He turned towards the winter spirit, fists clenched at his sides, causing Jack to raise his staff defensively in warning. Then in the next moment, the Nightmare King had calmed and the smirk returned. "Of course, that was on my own. If you're volunteering to help me, than perhaps I can be persuaded to—"

"Wait, what?" Jack asked incredulously. "Help you? Scare children?" The white-haired boy could only blink in confusion, trying to comprehend how Pitch could have possibly come to that conclusion.

The dark spirit paused and glanced over at the white-haired boy. "Of course…partner. Unless you want me to continue with the nightmares…"

Jack had begun to get a very sick feeling in his stomach. "So, if I do this I either help you scare kids or you keep going with the nightmares?"

Pitch had a particularly unreadable expression on his face as he stared at Jack. Finally he opened his mouth, although his features remained blank. "Welcome to the choices I've had to make for the whole of my entire existence."

Jack knew Pitch was manipulating his feelings, but he still couldn't help but feel sorry for this man. Just what had his life as a spirit been like? The winter spirit wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"There's got to be another way," Jack whispered.

"If you can think of one, please let me know. I am open to suggestion," Pitch said disdainfully and with more than a little bitterness. Jack wanted to say something, but nothing came to mind.

They sat there in silence for several seconds before Pitch paused and raised an eyebrow. "Well, Jack? What do you say?"

Jack bit his lip. Was it worth it? Helping Pitch scare kids to give the Guardians time to come up with a way to resist the Nightmare King without Sandman; to be there to stop the Boogieman from going too far? He knew how the others would take his turn; as a betrayal far worse than anything he'd already done. But then again, he never really had fit in with them. Bunnymund threw that in his face on a regular basis and had never kept his stance on Jack a secret.

For a moment, he glanced up at the sky, imagining the moon gazing down on them from behind the dark storm clouds; the silent moon that refused to talk to him, although it apparently had no problem communicating with the Guardians.

Pitch's words from only a few moments before rang through his mind. _"I believe in you."_ Even if Pitch had been bluffing, it felt good to hear. And at this point, Jack wasn't sure it was a lie.

"Alright," he said finally, his voice soft but firm as he looked up at the Nightmare King and held out his hand. "I'm in."

Pitch smiled as he took Jack's hand as well. The expression held no hint of kindness.

"Magnificent."

xXx

Jack insisted that the first thing they do was release the fairies, much to Pitch's annoyance. Still, he agreed, albeit reluctantly. Said annoyance had turned to triumphant laughter when they'd found that none of the little fairies could fly.

Jack glared down at Pitch as the fairies cowered away from the maniacal laughter.

"Oh, little fairies. You are more than welcome to leave at any time you wish!" The Nightmare King said with more than a hint of cruel superiority.

Jack's eyes narrowed as he turned back to the little creatures. "Just hold on. I'll find a way to get you all home."

Several of the fairies looked scared and tired, but most of them managed encouraging nods or thankful squeaks.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" The dark spirit's voice drew Jack's attention. He was circling the globe that reminded Jack of a darker version of North's. "The lights have all gone out! Except for…oh, just six…five…four…"

The sick feeling had returned as Jack jumped down to study the globe as well, ignoring the confused squeaks behind him. "Oh, there go three and two!"

"How did you do that?" Jack asked.

The Nightmare King raised an eyebrow, obviously asking for clarification.

Jack scowled. "The belief. How did you make it go out so fast?"

"Ah," Pitch said as clarity came to him, then he smiled eerily. "The belief of a child; so powerful, but so fragile. You'd be surprised what a few fear-induced nightmares can do. My nightmares aren't normal nightmares, you see. They strike at the very heart of a child's deepest fear."

Jack just stared at him in horror for several seconds. "How can you enjoy that?"

The Boogieman eyed him for a moment. "I don't exactly have a chance at much entertainment. I take what comes."

Jack couldn't help the confused horror that fell over his face as he stared at his new partner. "Have you ever had any real fun? Do you even know what fun is?"

Pitch frowned. "Of course I know what it is. And how would you propose I have 'real fun' when I'm invisible and bound to shadows and darkness?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Jack couldn't help but latch onto it. He'd had plenty of fun in the dark, but most of it involved some kind of light…and ice; lots of ice. He'd have to come up with a game that Pitch could play to show him what good fun felt like if only because the idea of anyone (even the Nightmare King) not knowing fun struck Jack as inherently wrong.

"Why is this last light not going out?" Pitch asked darkly.

Jack glanced up at the last light in the Northern American continent, right about where Burgess was…

"Jamie," he whispered.

"This calls for a personal touch," Pitch growled and turned. A few steps away, he glanced back at Jack. "Coming, partner?"

The utter silence that befell the room caused them both to look up at the cages of baby tooth fairies. Most of them looked down with expressions of shock and denial. He didn't dare look close enough to distinguish the rest.

Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to get out of there.

"Yeah," he muttered, following Pitch out of the still silent lair.

xXx

The moonbeams didn't seem as bright as usual to Jack. He glared up at the round, white object from under his hood before turning his attention back to his companion.

"Why are we here?" he asked uncertainly, glancing up at the warm windows of Jamie Bennett's house shining against the night.

"This is the last light on the globe," Pitch said, raising an eyebrow in the other spirit's direction.

Jack blinked feeling a flutter of fear in his chest. "Wait, you're not going to hurt him!"

The Nightmare King rolled his eyes. "Of course not. I'm just going to…persuade him to stop believing."

"No," Jack said angrily, grabbing hold of Pitch's arm. "Leave him alone!"

Pitch growled and looked as if he were about to attack the white-haired spirit, but he must have seen that Jack wouldn't budge on this matter and visibly restrained himself. "Then what do you suggest? As long as one child exists, the Guardians may have the power to stop us!"

"It's just one kid!" Jack protested. "Out of the whole world, there's only one child left who believes!" And he hated himself for his next words. "And how long do you think that will last?"

The Nightmare King frowned. "Fine. Then why don't we go up and see?"

Jack glared at him for a moment before launching himself onto the roof.

"Stay here. I can handle this," he said, not wanting Pitch anywhere near Jamie…or any of the kids from his home town, really.

The Nightmare King regarded him for a moment, but then nodded. Jack returned the gesture and walked back along the house, pausing just outside of Jamie's room. The kid had, for some reason, left the window open just a crack. He crept carefully up to the opening and hunched outside, listening to the voice he heard coming from the warm interior.

"—Like my whole life, in fact, so you kind of owe me," Jamie was saying. "It doesn't have to be big. It can be anything…anything at all."

Jack caught his breath as he glanced inside. It didn't take a genius to realize what Jamie was doing. He was questioning his belief as to whether or not he'd actually seen the Guardians or if it had all been a dream.

"No…Jamie," he whispered. He didn't want the kid to stop believing in the Guardians… He'd never wanted that to begin with.

The boy stared hard at the little stuffed rabbit in his hands for several seconds while Jack continued to hold his breath. Then Jamie slumped.

"I knew it," he muttered, letting the stuffed animal fall onto the floor.

Something stirred in Jack. He couldn't let this pass, no matter what Pitch said. So he did the only thing he could think of. He frosted over the window, and put his finger to the glass, drawing a rudimentary Easter Egg.

Jamie blinked and turned to the window, having heard the frost crackle into existence, and gasped.

"He's real…" he whispered.

Jack grinned for just a moment, but didn't dare stay any longer. If Pitch found out…well, it wouldn't be pretty. He frosted the window again, erasing the picture before turning directly into the Boogieman.

"What was that, Jack?" The Nightmare King asked calmly, but Jack didn't miss the hint of warning that swam underneath the tone. The frost spirit took a step back. Had he seen? Or could he just pass it off as an accident?

"When I don't concentrate, things frost over," he said cautiously.

Pitch walked around him, holding his chin in his hand. "I see," he said skeptically. Jack had to consciously not let out a breath of relief. "And the child?"

Jack tried to act as nonchalant as he could. "Dunno. He was talking to a stuffed animal. I…uh, don't think he'll last—"

A loud crash interrupted the conversation, causing them both to snap their gazes towards the front of the house.

"What was that?" Jack asked, rushing forward. Pitch beat him to it, appearing at the edge of the roof and looking down over it just as several flying reindeers sped past. A few houses down, North's giant, red sleigh stood out starkly against the pavement where it had crashed. From his position, Jack could easily see North and Tooth inside.

And that suddenly he really, _really_ didn't want to be there.

"Oh my, the Guardians have come to defend their last little ray of hope. How adorable." The last few words had a menace in them that set Jack's warning bells off.

"Remember, you can't hurt them!"

Pitch looked like he wanted to snarl. "They're interfering," he said calmly but with a dangerous undercurrent.

"They don't know," Jack returned. "And I still say one child who probably won't last the week isn't going to hurt you in the long run."

The Boogieman did not look happy, but he finally calmed down. "Hurt us, Jack. We're partners, remember?" Jack winced, feeling a lump at the back of his throat. Pitch frowned at him before speaking. "Alright, I won't touch them this time, if you can get them to leave."

"Only if you promise not to go near Jamie," Jack bartered.

Pitch narrowed his eyes. "Whatever you say, Jack."

"I mean it. If you do anything to hurt him, the deal is off," the winter spirit warned.

They stared at each other for several seconds before the Boogieman reluctantly nodded. Satisfied, Jack jumped into the air and floated down to confront the Guardians.

Before, he really hadn't felt like he deserved many of their words. Now though…everything they'd said about him was true. He tried desperately to shove the guilt down, but it didn't work.

Tooth saw him first.

"Jack?" she asked, leaping into the air only to trip and land ungracefully when her wings couldn't carry her.

"Hey," he said, rushing forward. "You okay?"

She nodded and straightened, smoothing her feathers.

"Jack, what are you doing here?" North asked.

He tried not to wince, he really did. "I think I'm here for the same reason you are."

"The last child who still believes?" North said skeptically.

Jack glanced around uncomfortably and nodded.

"How did you know?" Tooth asked.

"I was in Pitch's lair, trying to get your fairies out," he said slowly, not wanting to lie to them, but not wanting to tell them the whole truth just yet either. "I saw the light."

The fairy's eyes widened and she put her hands to her mouth. "You were trying to do that? Even after…"

Jack swallowed and his hand tightened around his staff. Tooth looked like she wanted to cry in gratitude, and he most certainly did not deserve that. "Yeah. Look, you guys…where's Bunny?"

The large Russian sighed. "Losing Easter took its toll on all of us; Bunny most of all." He looked back towards the sleigh and Jack followed his gaze. On one of the wings sat the most adorable little rabbit Jack had ever seen. The winter spirit winced. Bunnymund was _not_ supposed to be _cute._

He bit his lip. It was now or never. "Look, you guys need to leave."

North's brow furrowed. "Why would we do that? We must protect our believer from Pitch!"

"I've take care of it," Jack insisted. "Jamie's safe. Pitch can't get him."

"Oi, what's going on?" Bunnymund asked sullenly, hopping up to the group. Jack found it surreal to have the same voice come from such a tiny ball of fur.

"Jack says he can protect Jamie," Tooth said slowly. Jack wanted to sigh at her expression. She knew something didn't add up.

"Well he'll need our help!" Bunny replied.

"Yes, we should get into positions around the house before Pitch shows up," North agreed.

Jack felt desperation begin to tug at him. "You guys don't understand, if you don't leave now—"

"But I'm already here, North," Pitch's disembodied voice rang around them. The three remaining Guardians gathered together, North and Tooth back to back and Bunny in the Christmas spirit's hand.

"Come out, Pitch!" Bunny yelled angrily. "We're not afraid of you!"

"Aw, aren't you adorable? Would you like me to scratch you behind the ears?" Pitch said, appearing just in front of the group and looking at Bunnymund with an almost cute expression. Then it melted into the typical triumph that seemed to grace his features these days.

North backed up several steps, causing Tooth to squeak as she tried to get out of his way.

Bunny, on the other hand…

"Oi! Come here you overgrown shadow! Let's go! You and me!"

"Would you count that as interfering, Jack?"

Jack winced, wishing he could just disappear right then and there as he felt all of the Guardians turn their eyes to him.

"Jack?" Tooth asked softly, her expression disbelieving. "What's going on?"

He couldn't meet their eyes and found himself suddenly grateful for what little protection his drawn hood gave him.

"Oh, he hasn't told you yet? And here I thought I gave him plenty of time." The winter spirit glared at the Boogieman. That was an outright lie and they both knew it. He just wanted his dramatic gloating to twist out more pain and fear as he delivered the news.

"Stop it!" Jack growled.

Pitch looked as if he wanted to continue, but they both also knew that their deal meant more to him. "You're right, Jack," he said, backing up calmly. "You should tell them."

"Tell us what?" North asked.

"No…" Tooth whispered.

"You didn't…" Bunnymund said, although his tone sounded far more resigned than the other two.

"Jamie's safe," Jack said softly, then looked up at Tooth. "Your fairies are safe and if you all leave now…you'll be safe."

"You see," Pitch continued gleefully, "Jack and I struck a deal. As long as you all stay in your territories you will all remain in good health, but if not, _we_ will stop you."

That was when North got it, and the betrayal in his eyes hurt more than even Tooth's.

"Jack…why?" Tooth whispered, tears forming in her eyes. Bunny didn't say anything, his face oddly blank. Funny, Jack would have taken shouting and yelling, or even an outright glare than that lack of expression.

"You joined with him?" North asked.

"Of course he did," Pitch said as if it were the most obvious thing on Earth. "After all, why should he go with people who don't believe in him?"

"T-that's not true!" Tooth replied angrily.

"Isn't it?" Jack heard himself ask, his own anger beginning to stir inside of him.

Tooth looked back and forth between Jack and Pitch as if trying to decide what to do. Bunny still had that strangely emotionless expression and North seemed to find the ground away from Jack very interesting.

Jack didn't encourage any conversation and Pitch seemed content to sit back and observe for once. The white-haired boy didn't move, choosing instead to watch the other spirits now, unsure as to whether their reactions relieved or hurt him more. Relieved because it meant they hadn't really believed he'd ever go with Pitch, but hurt that despite this, they'd said what they had anyway. They really had expected they'd chased him off permanently as they hadn't thought he'd be here…it was all Jack needed to confirm that they still didn't want him.

"I did not want to believe," North spoke up, breaking the heavy silence. The large man looked back at Jack with wide, pain-filled, eyes that held no wonder now.

That set another flare of anger off inside Jack and he couldn't help his icy glare. "When you accused me before, I hadn't."

"I don't believe you," Bunnymund spoke up for the first time, his voice heavy and bitter. Then he turned to glance up at North and Tooth. "Besides, who cares if he was with Pitch before? He is now and _that's_ what matters."

An icy wind picked up around them.

"You're right, Bunny," Jack said, his voice as cold as the frost he made. "Why should you start believing in me? You never did before."

"Jack—" Tooth started, but the winter spirit cut her off.

"No," he held up his hand. "When I finally found you guys early today, you asked me what I'd done, as if I'd intended to go off to search of my memories instead of helping. And you wouldn't let me explain. That's not believing in me, Tooth.

"And you," he turned his attention to North. "You assumed I'd actually approached Pitch. It wouldn't occur to you that he's the _Boogieman_ , master of deceit and trickery." Pitch looked torn between pride and anger at that, but kept quiet as Jack went on. "I'm still kicking myself that I fell for his stupid bait and got separated from Baby Tooth, but you pulled the same stunt she did and wouldn't even hear me out!

"Then there's E. Aster Bunnymund," Jack said venomously, focusing on the last member of the party. "Who never even wanted to believe in me to begin with and who has held grudges against me for _doing my job_ for centuries. Well now you're feeling what I've—what _we've_ felt for our whole existences and what you always shoved in my face."

Jack paused, stepping back towards Pitch as horror and realization filled their eyes.

"Nobody believes," Jack heard himself say softly. "Nobody believes in you any more." He leaned his staff across his shoulder and turned away from them, only glancing at them over his shoulder, but before he took a step, something occurred to him.

"You know, you all ignored me for 300 years. It's funny, but if you would have come to me even a month ago, I would have done anything for you… _any_ of you. Instead you left me to be invisible to the world. Now it's your turn." He could see the recognition in their eyes as they finally began to realize the consequences of their apathy. "Not so fun from the receiving end, is it?"

He hadn't even realized himself how much their ignoring him hurt until just then. Hadn't he gotten used to being alone? He almost snorted derisively at the thought.

Pitch's booming laugh drew him out of his mini reverie. Jack still stood facing away from the Guardians, but the Nightmare King had appeared to his left, only just inside of Jack's visible range, a mocking grin splitting his face.

"Isn't he magnificent? My new ally, the Frost Prince."

Jack's face contorted in confusion. "The Fr—"

"And really, I have all of you to thank," Pitch continued smarmily, bowing magnanimously to the group of spirits. Then his voice changed to a light, almost happy tone. "Now, off with you! Off, off! It's past your curfew, and you have a _long_ walk home."

"Why you—" Bunny yelled. Jack looked back just in time to see the little creature launch himself at Pitch.

Instinctively, he threw up a shield of ice just before Pitch conjured his own defense. Bunny had expected a reaction consisting of the softer nightmare sand and rammed into Jack's shield, hard, before sliding to the ground in a groan.

"Bunny!" Tooth yelled, racing towards her fallen friend. Then, she looked up at Jack and Pitch and slowed, torn between her own safety and helping her dazed companion. Jack took a step back, giving her the go ahead to approach the small rabbit. She rushed forward and scooped Bunny up as gently as she could before backing towards North.

In those few moments, silence seemed to swallow them. Jack turned away again, although he could literally feel the shocked and angry gazes of his former allies.

Finally, the winter spirit moved, bringing the ice shield down. "Leave," he said, his own voice sounding loud and hollow in the noiseless night. "Before I make you."

The atmosphere could have been cut with one of North's swords and no one moved. Then, finally, Jack heard the large man stand.

"Tooth, Bunny…come."

And Jack hated himself, because North sounded so utterly _broken_.

Tooth's light footsteps soon joined the Russian's.

"We won't forget this, Frost," Jack heard Bunnymund say. "Ever." Jack found it hard to swallow.

"We'll count on it," Pitch said. "And please refrain from returning. After all, this is the Frost Prince's home and we will know if you so much as try. We wouldn't want any of your precious children hurt, now would we?"

Jack stiffened at his side, his grip on his staff tightening. No matter what Pitch said, he would not allow any of the children in Burgess to come to any harm. He didn't say anything though. Instead he turned to look over his shoulder and just watched as the three disheartened spirits disappeared into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Extra long first chapter, but I really didn't feel I could stop it sooner.
> 
> Anyway, updating this will be sporadic at best, but I'm determined to finish it! I have most of it planned out, and now it's just a matter of finding the time to write it...^^;


	3. Creating Memories

_"The Frost Prince?" One of the older children asked. They hadn't heard that one before._

_"It all started on a cold night, just barely warming for spring when a child of the winter had just finished a day of bringing happiness and fun to the children."_

_"Happiness and fun? In the winter?" the child asked. "How could he do that?"_

_The gray-eyed lady smiled again, acknowledging his question. "He brought the snow. You see, my dear ones, the Frost Prince consisted of cold. Everything in the world that you can think of."_

_"Like ice sickles?" one child asked._

_"Rain?"_

_"Snow?"_

_"Yes," the gray-eyed lady said, her smile encouraging and kind. "He was made of all of that and more. His very essence, his soul, consisted of the very first frost of each winter."_

**_xXx_ **

**_Cold doesn't do anything to me. It took me…well, longer than I can really guess to realize that cold can_ hurt _humans. Well, I knew the cold could kill them, I just didn't understand how. I didn't know what it did to them. How could I know that once their body becomes cold that eventually it would get painful and then numb as it shuts down. I still can't quite comprehend it because even in the coldest cold, I can feel whatever I touch without any pain. But then I look at how I feel now…emotionally. I remember how it (I don't know what to call it; my heart? My soul?) hurt and then it got numb and then I stopped caring. It shut down. Once I realized that I could begin to see how cold can kill so easily._**

Jack leaned against the wall in the dark, underground lair with his hood up and a scowl on his face as he watched Pitch chortle to himself. The Boogieman walked around his globe again and again, only frowning every now and then at the light that belonged to Jamie before glancing narrowly in Jack's direction, but then he would dismiss it until he came to it again. It was getting rather old. Still, despite the one, little flaw, he still seemed to love how dark the rest of the large globe had become. He would.

Finally, Jack had enough. "Alright, already," he said. "You won, the world is yours, everyone believes in you now, whatever. Are you going to get the Tooth Fairies home or what?"

Pitch paused and turned slowly to Jack. "No."

Jack frowned deeper. "You said you'd return the Tooth Fairies."

Pitch raised a finger, cruel smile in place. "I promised that I would release them, and I have. As I said before, they are all free to go."

"They can't fly," Jack practically growled. "How are they supposed to get back to the Tooth Palace? Walk? That would take them weeks! And that's _if_ they could make it at all!"

"Tooth Palace? You mean whatever remains?" Pitch snorted. "I don't know how they will return or if they will return and I don't care."

Jack's hand clenched around his staff and the room dropped several degrees. Pitch raised an eyebrow and smirked. "You have quite the little temper on you for an ice spirit. Partnerships work out like this, Jack. Especially those like ours."

The message was clear: _If you want them gone, take them yourself._

Jack felt his jaw tighten for a second and he wanted with all of his being to attack the Nightmare King, but he forced himself to calm down. That wouldn't help anyone in the long run. It would actually only put the little fairies and Jamie within Pitch's reach.

Still glaring at the Nightmare King, Jack leapt into the air and grabbed onto a cage, swinging up so he could see the little beings inside. Little, fearful squeaks came from within.

"Don't worry," he said as reassuringly as he could. "I'll get you guys home."

None of the little fairies answered him. Instead they backed as far away from him as they could. Jack sighed. Then he looked around at all of the cages so full of the little fairies. The only way he could think of to get them all home was to take a cage at a time; maybe two or three if he rigged something up. He did not like the idea of leaving Pitch alone for that long at the moment (would he seek out and hurt the Guardians? Go back on their deal without Jack ever knowing? Jack wouldn't put it past him), but then what could he do?

"Fine, I'll take them," he muttered. He'd have to bunch them into the cages, and it probably wouldn't be comfortable for them (or him, lugging those giant things back and forth), but it would get them all home and safe. He glanced at Pitch suspiciously. "What are you going to do now?"

He really had a bad feeling about letting Pitch out of his sight.

Pitch held his chin in his hand thoughtfully. "I think I'll wait here for you to come back and help me."

Jack scowled. "I'm not helping you tonight."

"Then it is back to nightmares."

The winter spirit felt his gut clench. He was trapped…and he couldn't see a way out. Well, not for everyone. "Not in Burgess."

The Boogieman paused, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

Jack clenched his teeth. "Fine, go ahead and have your nightmares tonight, but it's your last night, and no nightmares in Burgess. Just leave my kids alone."

Pitch scoffed, stepping forward with a swing of his hand in an arc. "Just one city, Jack?"

If Jack could have frozen him with just a look, Pitch would have been a rather large popsicle at that point. "Just one city. It's my city, and I'll know. No nightmares there."

The Nightmare King frowned. "You cannot change the details of our arrangement at your whims."

Jack snickered humorlessly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm just laying down the letter of the law. Partnerships work like that."

Silence met his words, loud and oppressive in Jack's mind. Then, after what seemed like forever, Pitch did something Jack hadn't expected: he laughed. "Well said, Jack. Why have we not joined forces before?"

The winter spirit didn't answer. He didn't feel the question required one.

"Your word," Jack said finally.

Another chuckle. "You have it, Your Majesty. But just for tonight."

"No," Jack responded harshly. "I'll help you do whatever—scare children or what not," he ignored the weak, fearful squeaks of protest from the fairies, "but not in Burgess. Never in Burgess."

"And what do I get in return?" Pitch asked slowly. Jack frowned. "Oh, please, Jack. You cannot keep changing the deal and expect me to not clarify or push back."

Jack bit his lip. He did not like where this was heading, but he just couldn't bare the thought of all the children in his town being tortured like that. "One night," he said finally. "One night a month, you can have your nightmares."

Pitch raised his eyebrow as if to say 'oh really?' Suddenly Jack felt as if he'd given something vitally important away.

The dark spirit opened his mouth, but Jack cut him off. "And!" Pitch closed his mouth. "And," Jack continued, "you help me take the tooth fairies home safely. All of them."

"And how would you suggest we accomplish that?"

The white-haired boy frowned. "The same way you kidnapped them."

The fairies all squeaked in fear again. Apparently that hadn't been the most pleasant experience, but he didn't have any other ideas, and it would get them home. Pitch seemed hesitant and Jack scowled.

"I mean, it's not like your nightmares are being used for anything else at the moment anyway," he said, his voice laced with the threat new the Nightmare King would catch.

Pitch turned and looked down at him, bemused. "More observant than you let on. Very well." He snapped his fingers and the nightmare sand began to form into horses, swarming into the lair from all sides and stomping angrily at the ground.

"Get them home safely," Jack insisted, his voice calmer now. "I'm going to stop by later when Tooth gets there and make sure that every one of them is accounted for."

Pitch stared down at him for a few seconds before bowing mockingly. "What ever you say, my Prince."

Jack scowled. "And stop calling me that."

The Boogieman paused for a moment thoughtfully. "No," he said finally and snapped his fingers again. The tooth fairies all squeaked as the horses and the cages vanished into the shadows. Jack jumped forward to stop it, but couldn't reach any in time. In a few minutes, the only beings remaining in the lair were Pitch and Jack.

"What did you do to them?"

"I sent them all home," Pitch said with an exasperated roll of his eyes.

Jack just glared at him for several minutes.

"Well," the Boogieman said finally petting a nightmare at his side gently as if it didn't look like it wanted nothing more than to charge both of them down. Those were the things Pitch let loose in children's heads? "As your evening is now free, would you care to join me?"

It was a poorly veiled reminder. ' _Help me, or I unleash my nightmares._ '

Something inside of Jack seemed to break as he realized what his answer would be. Unable to open his mouth or look the other man in the eye, he simply turned his gaze to the floor blankly in front of him and nodded.

xXx

Jack did not want to do this. The thought made him physically sick, actually. It was a rather interesting sensation as he couldn't remember his body ever feeling like that before.

He gripped his staff tightly and glanced at the window they'd (well, Pitch had) chosen. A little girl lived here. The Nightmare King had melted through his shadows to the house's interior already after Jack had refused to be taken in the same way. He'd told the dark spirit to let him in the window, not comfortable with Pitch's ability to travel through shadows yet (and he hoped he never would be).

For a moment, his stomach hurt so badly that he had to sit down. This was a bad idea. Could he do this? Should he? But if he didn't, children would be tortured by nightmares every night, and he couldn't allow that to continue. This was a better alternative…wasn't it?

His breath sped up, and he jumped when the click of the window sounded in the still night.

"Scared, Jack?" Pitch asked mockingly.

Absolutely, but he wasn't about to admit it. "Why should I be?" he whispered back and forced himself through the opening.

"Oh, please, Jack," the Boogieman rolled his eyes. "You know you can't hide it from me. Although I am wondering what there is to fear from a six-year-old girl."

Jack felt his cheeks color with embarrassment. "Yeah, whatever. Let's just get this over with."

Pitch shrugged as if to say 'suit yourself' and turned to the sleeping little girl on the bed, studying her intently with an air or professionalism. It struck Jack as inherently creepy on a whole different level than what Pitch normally pulled off.

For just a moment he could see it. He could see how this being had been feared for centuries and how he'd earned his name as 'The Boogieman'. This was the spirit of fear and deception, and he fit the part well.

Jack shuddered.

"She can't hear either one of us at the moment," the dark spirit commented as if he were assessing a challenge.

"She doesn't believe?" Jack asked skeptically, eying the figure on the bed. "She's six."

"Her parents do not encourage such 'frivolous' thoughts."

The winter-spirit frowned. He didn't like the thought that a child didn't even _get_ to believe in anything at all. Although it would benefit her in this case.

"So," Pitch continued, "we are going to convince her otherwise."

"How?" Jack asked, not sure if he wanted the answer.

The Nightmare King shrugged. "If I cannot use nightmares, she will have to be awake. That in and of itself is simple enough, as is scaring her. The real trick is to instill the base _belief_ of that fear—that you and I are, in fact, here. To do that, we need to offer proof."

"Proof?" Jack asked.

Pitch turned and raised an eyebrow in an expression that clearly said 'are you really that stupid?' "Jack, why do children—I mean, why _did_ children," that cruel, triumphant smile was back even as he continued, "believe in the other Guardians?"

Jack blinked. He'd never really thought about it before. "I…don't know."

The other man rolled his eyes. "Think, Jack. Why did children believe in Nicholas St. North; in Santa Claus?"

"Because…he left them presents?" the winter spirit said tentatively.

Pitch nodded and his face relaxed ever so slightly, somewhat appeased. "Yes. And what of Toothiana?"

"She leaves gifts," Jack said, a little more firmly this time but still cautious as he was unsure of where this was going. He sincerely doubted Pitch wanted to leave anyone gifts.

"As does that ridiculous rabbit," Pitch added. "So what did the dreamweaver leave?" His smirk caused Jack to wince and his glare to sharpen threateningly. It still hurt to think about Sandman.

"I don't know. Good dreams?" he answered with gritted teeth.

"Evidence, Jack," Pitch corrected. "Evidence of their existence. That is why no one ever believed in you."

"Hey," Jack frowned. "I leave plenty of evidence wherever I go!"

"But nothing that cannot be attributed to a miscalculation of nature at worst," Pitch said, waving his hand in the air dismissively. "Think about it. Are you responsible for every single storm in the entire world?"

"No," Jack said slowly, mind still not processing what the other spirit was telling him.

The dark spirit nodded. "And humans can only predict the weather marginally, even today. You can do everything that a full-fledged spirit of winter can do, and the wind follows you, but nothing you do can be attributed to anything but an accident.

"To humans, that is what you are: A happy—or unhappy—accident."

Jack looked down at his staff as he tried to process this information. He didn't want to admit that it made sense, but he found he couldn't deny it. It was so simple…how could he have missed it before? He knew humans tended to be blissfully unaware of the world around them. He knew people wouldn't believe unless they wanted to, whether the truth stared them in the face or not. He knew, and yet he'd always assumed he'd been doing enough—more than enough—to get the attention he deserved when in reality it hadn't been nearly enough…or at least not nearly _blatant_ enough.

"Then how do you do it?" he asked softly. Pitch cocked his head, asking for clarification. "How do you make a child believe? What kind of proof do I need?"

"Ah, and that is the trick, is it not?" The Nightmare King grinned wickedly. "Too blatant and they brush it off as an unclaimed joke or prank, sometimes even a threat from a very different source—a friend or family member for instance. On the other hand, if your proof is too subtle, it gets passed by either unnoticed or dismissed as the fleeting remnants of a bad dream and nothing more."

Jack still felt like he was reeling from what Pitch had just told him, but he had enough presence of mind to realize a misdirection when he heard one. "You still haven't answered my question," he muttered.

Pitch chuckled softly. "You create a _memory_ ; one that distracts and draws attention to itself; one that will not be overpowered by another."

Jack's eyes widened. "That's why you took the teeth!"

The Nightmare King's smile widened. "If you have no good dreams to battle the nightmares, and if you have no bright memories to battle the fear, belief will always fade. The children needed to forget."

The winter spirit stared at the other man in disbelief. "Memories?" Jack murmured, half to himself, almost as if confirming that he had indeed heard correctly.

"The stronger the memory, the stronger the hold," Pitch sounded entirely too cocky now, but this fact only barely registered to Jack. "Do you know how to make a memory, my Frost Prince."

"Don't call me that," Jack snapped, finally breaking out of his shocked reverie.

"Well?" Pitch pushed, ignoring Jack's comment.

"No."

"Repetition and impact."

The winter spirit blinked. "What?"

"Repetition—you're always there when a child comes to their room. They just know you're always under _their_ bed. I found out a few centuries ago that the nightmares that Sandman let slip through were quite helpful in my endeavors of convincing children that I lived under their bed, but even with their help I could only do so much. I could only haunt a handful of children for months, sometimes even years on end, and even then I could rarely get to them during the day. They only believed in me at night."

Jack tried to swallow the sick feeling in his stomach away. It didn't help.

"Impact—where an experience is so frightening they will revisit it themselves and keep themselves afraid. The problem here is mainly timing. If everything isn't exactly perfect, if you do not take the time to set up correctly and if you do not know exactly what you are doing, it all comes to naught. That is what my nightmares did every night for the last week: Set the mood."

He paused and grinned wickedly at Jack. "My little trick of turning dreams into nightmares allows me to create a repetitive impact on a wide scale. You see, we will obtain the most fear if we can combine the two concepts."

It had gotten hard to breathe. He hadn't even know he needed to breathe, but every word Pitch had spoken seemed to steal just a little more precious air from his lungs. "I can't do this," Jack said finally, turning to leave.

"Think about it, Jack," Pitch's voice stopped him. "A handful of children every night if you help me, or every child every night with my nightmares. It's your choice."

Involuntarily, Jack felt himself freeze. He hated this. But still, through the growing despair and desperation he felt, he realized one thing: Pitch didn't need him. He could have had all of that power, but he'd given it up just so he wouldn't be alone. Jack was really starting to hate the fact that he knew that feeling so well. He was also beginning to resent the fact that he would do anything to be rid of said feeling.

"I don't want children to fear me," he said finally. "I never have."

"They don't have to. I have no problems taking all the credit," Pitch said with a dismissive laugh.

Jack frowned and looked back at him. "What was that about children believing in me?"

"Oh, don't worry, Jack. This is a mutual partnership. You help me, and I'll help you."

"No fear involved," Jack insisted.

"Of course not," Pitch deadpanned. "That is my area of expertise."

Jack still didn't like this, but it was better than the nightmares scaring every child every night."

"Alright," he said lowly. "What do you need me to do?"

The Nightmare King smiled triumphantly, but only barely. "I don't _need_ you to do anything, Jack." It was just an affirmation of the winter spirit's own conclusion, but he still felt his frustration boil over at the words.

"Than why am I here?" Jack yelled, grateful the little girl couldn't hear them for once. She'd have woken up long ago otherwise.

Pitch raised an eyebrow. "Well, it is simply a matter of what you can do to help me. I'm sure we can devise a way to combine our powers and create a memory. After all, memories often come back through smell and touch. If she remembers actually feeling something then the memory will linger because it will feel _real_ to her. That is part of the spell that allows them to interact with us. We are only alive _because_ we are real to her. 'I believe' is the most basic and powerful magic spell in existence."

"Are you saying I've never been alive?" Jack asked quietly, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer. This whole situation was only getting more and more disturbing the further it went on.

Pitch didn't answer for several seconds. When he did, his voice held a tone of forced nonchalance. "Does it mater? We will soon remedy the situation one way or another."

Jack frowned. It did matter to him. The idea of him walking around as some sort of dead ghost… His stomach hurt even more at the thought.

Pitch continued. "The night grows late. Tell me, Jack, what can you do to help me create an impact?"

Jack glanced around the somewhat messy room, wanting to look anywhere but at Pitch. He had to stop thinking that he didn't want to do this and start focusing on the problem at hand. Too bad he really stunk at it.

Wait, Pitch had said something about people remembering because of smell and…touch.

"You want me to freeze something?"

The Nightmare King rolled his eyes and leaned in, causing Jack to step back uneasily. "You're thinking too small, Jack. We need something that will give irrefutable proof."

"But I have no idea—"

"What can you do Jack?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out!" he shot angrily.

"I meant in general." Jack new what little patience Pitch had was waning rather quickly. Actually, he couldn't help but be surprised that the other had lasted this long.

"Uh," Jack said slowly, wondering what this had to do with anything, "I can freeze things?"

"And?" Pitch asked, turning and pacing around the room, kicking toys and clothes to the side with distaste.

"Make it snow?"

Very deliberately, Pitch stopped walking and turned to face Jack with a pointed look, his silvery gold eyes glinting eerily in the dim light.

"You…want me to make it snow?"

As if putting up with a particularly irritating child, the Boogieman rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Not outside."

Jack's eyes widened. "In the room? But that's—"

"Unnatural? Unheard of? Exactly what we need?"

The winter spirit sat there opening and closing his mouth for a few seconds without any sound coming out. Then he looked down, and then over at the still sleeping girl.

"And that's…all you want me to do?"

Pitch shrugged. "For now."

Jack did _not_ like the sound of that, but then what could he really do about it? Without putting the children in danger. Well, more danger.

He sighed. "Alright."

xXx

Alicia first woke up to the sound of something clattering onto the floor. It hadn't been very loud, but it had disturbed her none the less, startling her awake. She could see nothing out of the ordinary in her room, and her eyes had just began to close again when she felt the cold pricks on her face, as if something were falling onto it.

Sitting up, she blearily rubbed the sleep from her eyes and noticed the most amazing thing: it was snowing… _in her room._

At first she could only stare in wonder. Then she let out a loud giggle and went to get out of bed, but a dark shadow moving out of the corner of her eye had her pausing. And that suddenly, the cold didn't feel so friendly.

"Mommy and Daddy say there's nothing there," she told herself firmly. Then again, Mommy and Daddy would also say that it shouldn't snow in her room…

Steeling herself, Alicia swallowed and tried to be brave like Daddy always said, and ran over to the other side of the room, flicking the light-switch on and washing the room in the relief-giving light as the fixture in the center of the ceiling burst to life.

She instantly felt better…but the snow didn't leave. A light blanket of white specks covered everything in her room. She stared at it nervously. Should she go and get Mommy or Daddy? No, they would get mad if she did.

So instead she settled for the next best thing and walked back to her bed without shutting off the light. She then proceeded to bundle herself up in her blankets and hoped she could go back to sleep.

xXx

"I don't understand," Jack said in confusion, glancing back at the still lit window as he followed Pitch away from the house. "She didn't see us so she doesn't believe. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Pitch rolled his eyes. "True belief doesn't just appear, Jack. Sometimes you can exploit a moment of belief, even a slight flicker of 'maybe' in a child's mind can be enough to startle them with a shadow, but actual belief takes time and patience."

"So…you aren't going to stay until she believes in you?"

"Of course not, Jack. It will take a few nights at least. Surprisingly," he paused and smiled at his companion who stopped in his tracks and backed up defensively at the expression, "your presence has cut the time down immensely."

"Huh?" Jack asked, more confused than ever.

"A child like that can take months without nightmares and apparently weeks with nightmares. Now, with the evidence you have left behind, I think we can get her to begin believing within days."

"You mean fearing," Jack muttered softly.

Pitch frowned but said nothing. After several seconds of scrutiny, he turned and walked down the street. "I hope you do not plan on standing like that all night. We do have other houses to visit."

Jack's stomach flip-flopped and he closed his eyes for just a moment. When he opened them again though, they had gained a fiery determination that belied the frosty color. He would do this! If this is what it took to help the children in the long run, he would endure this for now. He could. After all, he'd endured solitude for over three centuries.

With his jaw set firmly, he followed after the Nightmare King as he disappeared into the night.


End file.
